


Without You

by Aesos



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Broken Heart, Character Death, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Loss, M/M, anguish, implied gore, otp, strong themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesos/pseuds/Aesos
Summary: Inspired by:Post by cappu_zzino on TwitterA BIG THANK YOU for the inspiration to write this in the first place!Further Musical Inspiration:Without You - Ursine Vulpine & AnnacaInfluenced with details from RP with Blu_MontagnePlease... If you liked this, leave a comment. I want to know what you think.Much Love,Aesos
Relationships: Gustave "Doc" Kateb/Gilles "Montagne" Touré
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blu_Montagne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu_Montagne/gifts).



The veteran operator sat on the bench; fingers curled over the edge of his shield. The two were inseparable and had been since the start. The haunting apparition of his anxious thoughts lingered over his shoulder, nagging at him. <> It would say to him. 

Every. Damned. Time.

But like every other time before this, he shook off the harbinger, and hoisted Le Roc once more.

When he headed for the door, he found Gus standing at the door, watching him. Merde.

“You always get so worried.” The Parisian gave him a tired smile, pushing off the door frame and walking up to him. “But you’ll be fine.” He reached up, lifted Gilles’ visor, and tiptoed to give him a kiss. He swore those boots of his added more than an insufferable inch to his already towering height.

Gilles returned the kiss and smiled back at his husband. “I know.” His smile faded as he adjusted Le Roc again. “I love you Gus. So much.”

“I know you do, and I love you too.” Gus realized the man was preparing to go in the field, and turned to stone, like his namesake. He reached up and brought the visor back down. “Go save them, love.”

Gilles nodded curtly, and stepped past the good doctor on his way to the transport. He dared not look back. If he did, he wouldn’t want to leave.

******  
The coach bus was a cramped space; so narrow and short that he couldn’t extend his shield. But he kept it pointed at their target, and the bomb strapped hostage beside him. Their negotiator behind him was leaning around Le Roc, as best he could. “Now wait! Don’t do anything rash… we just want to…”

Montagne heard the click; there was no mistaking that sound. The trigger had been pulled and the die had been cast. His eyes closed and he waited for the end.

In that fraction of a second of recognition, he desperately remembered his husband’s face with that stupid half grin of his. Greyed temples, and gorgeous brown eyes; filled with love. Then suddenly, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

******

Gustave ran down to the tents, fearing the worst. There were mixed reports of injuries, but nothing had been confirmed. All he could smell was acrid smoke and ash. Emma wouldn’t look at him and Julien had his back to him.

Three white sheets were draped across the ground, obviously covering the dead, and his heart sank. He was going to be sick. “No…” he breathed as his blood ran cold. ‘Someone, please… tell me…’

Just by the shape of her… Gus knew, and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t feel the pain of his knees colliding with the pavement or skidding across it as he slid to the prone form on the ground. The white sheet was barely large enough, but there was no mistaking the outline of Le Roc over him. On top of the sheet was a small piece of paper, taped haphazardly to it, bearing one name.

Touré.

He reached out for the sheet, but his hand stopped, shaking as he hesitated to pull it back. Did he really want to see this? The physician in him said he could handle it, but his soul screamed vehemently against it. 

As he pulled back the sheet, he had to stifle the urge to vomit. Strong as his stomach was, this was too much. Le Roc was set over his legs, but was blacker than black; deep gouges in the panels. The GIGN lettering had melted and curled or gone entirely. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Most of Gilles’ body was damaged beyond anything Gus had seen in years, the stuff of horror stories in med school. All except for a section of his front, where Le Roc had stood between him and the blast. She’d done her best to save him. He caught himself staring at the lifeless face behind the lowered visor. The smallest saving grace to it all.

He felt himself slipping, losing the barely contained tears blurring everything around him. Sound was fading, slowing going deaf, but he had to finish this. Gus reached for Gilles left hand. It was his shield hand, and thankfully, the one most protected. With shaking hands,he gingerly pulled the fingerless glove from the shield man’s hand and let it fall. What he was after was there, and as he pulled it from Gilles lifeless hand, he felt himself shake with heavy sobs.

Cradled in Gustave’s hands was Gilles wedding band, forged with metal from Le Roc herself. He closed his hand around it and held it close to his chest as he wept. 

Julien didn’t know what else to do, but he came over and pulled the sheet back over Gilles. “Come here Gus.” Julien spoke with a strength Gustave had never heard from their younger teammate. Firm hands lifted Gus to his feet, and an arm wrapped around his waist to support him. Gus was so weak, and while Julien was dealing with his own grief over Gilles death, he knew it was nothing in contrast to the anguish Gus was dealing with. 

Gustave didn’t notice being helped back to the base. He didn’t hear their words. Everything from then on was a blurry montage of events. The talks with Harry. The preparations. He remembered nothing except seeing that blackened shield, the ring in his hands, and the face of his love; forever frozen in time.

He was standing in front the mirror, like he had on their wedding day. Except this time, he was dressed in his GIGN dress uniform with Gilles ring on his thumb. It was the only one of his fingers the damned thing would fit on, but he was growing used to its presence. 

“Are you sure you want to do this Gus?” Emma asked him, coming up to him to straighten the finer details of the uniform. “We won’t hold it against you if you just want to…”

“No.” he told her with conviction, despite the shake in his voice. “I have to do this Em. I would never abandon him like that.”

He wanted to say something more; how very ‘until death do us part’ it was, but he knew all it would do was make Gilles groan in the afterlife. It brought a small glimmer of levity to his fog of grief.

“Then we do this. For him.” Emma spoke softly, taking Gus’ hand. “C’mon. We don’t want to be late.”

He thought he was ready, but he knew he wasn’t. They’d talked about what to do with Le Roc, and while Gus knew full well what to expect, he wasn’t prepared to actually see it.

On the dias was a raised platform, and on it was the custom-made casket. Le Roc, still scarred and charred, was fully extended and formed the cover of the casket. The main body of it was made of ebony stained wood, finished with brushed silver handles. It was as beautiful and as poignant as he knew it would be. 

“We’ve got a couple more minutes Gus. We’ll leave you two be for a moment.” Emma tapped Julien’s shoulder and they both left the room.

Gus stepped up, onto the platform. He took his glove off and laid his hand over the shield. Again, he felt the burn of tears, but they weren’t flowing like a river this time.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you Gilles…” He began, talking things out, one last time. The day they met, the nothing fights, the nights spent in his arms, confessions of love, their wedding day… everything flashed by him like a flip book of their life together. 

“I can hear you, you know? Telling me to stop crying. Saying that we knew this day MIGHT come. Making me promise to keep going. But now that the day is here… I don’t know HOW. There is a tear in my heart Gilles! THIS BIG!” he slammed his palm on the shield, feeling the sting of the impact. He pulled his hand back and rubbed at it. His fingers settled on the ring, and he spun it around a few times.

He hung his head, almost ashamed that he was talking to a casket. Gilles wasn’t here. “The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge; my savior, you save me from violence.” He recited the scripture from memory, having read it so many times across Gilles ribs. The tattoo was etched in his mind, and right now, it was consuming his thoughts. “Where was your God when you needed him, Gilles! Your damned rock is now your tomb!”

He turned and collapsed against the support that held up the casket.

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to say goodbye… I don’t want any of this!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. “But like hell am I going to leave you now. I want every last goddamned second with you, and I will take them…” his voice fell to a whisper. He could hear the others gathering outside, and knew his time was up. He pulled himself to his feet, and put his hand on Le Roc, once again.

“I love you, you big idiot, and I will never stop loving you. You and I both know; I will never love another. You were, and always will be, my one. I love you Gilles.”

The door opened, and Emma poked her head in. He nodded to her as he pulled his white glove back on. He wiped the last of his tears with it, then took his place at the front corner of the casket and waited. The other seven pallbearers made up of GIGN, Rainbow and Gilles’ brothers, all took their places. Thankfully, not a word was said. 

“On three.” Gus managed to croak and counted them to lift. Once they were all set, and adjusted, he called for them to march.

The plot wasn’t far from where they’d picked up the casket, by design. The combined weight of the shield and everything was more than normal. Each step burned, and each step was a nail to his heart. It was the worst pain he had ever endured, but he kept moving. The procession was surreal, and he just kept his eyes forward. If he looked at the faces of Gilles’ grieving mother and sister, he wouldn’t make it.

The group moved slowly, as tradition demanded, and they carefully set it to rest on the lowering rig. He turned to the casket, and reached into his pocket to retrieve something, and clipped it to the frame of the restored ballistic panels at the head of Le Roc. “Goodbye, my love…” he whispered as he let go of the charm.

He joined the rest and went through the motions of the ceremony, utterly numb.

When asked about it, months later, he admitted that he barely remembered any of it, but he remembered staring at the Rod of Asclepius charm he’d clipped to the shield, dangling in the breeze as they lowered him down. He wanted to be sure that while he would go on without Gilles, Gilles wouldn’t go on without a piece of him.


End file.
